A Most Unusual Lady
by Robyn of Sherwood
Summary: Charlotte Aubrey, a mysterious young woman, is travelling to be reunited with her twin sister. She and her manservant meet the Alistairs by chance on the road and thus begins an most unusual friendship with a most unusual woman.


_This fic is a crossover between Patrick o'Brien's Aubrey/Maturin series and Heyer. This would take place after Devil's Cub, when Mary and Dominic's children are grown up._

_This should be common knowledge but: Anything you recognize is NOT mine. I own the plot and one or two characters. The rest is property of their respective owners. Danke._

**Chapter 1: Robbery on the King's Highway**

Two riders, heavily coated and caped, pulled their horses to. The foremost rider had stiffened and was glancing around and trying to peer through the rain.

"Gunshots," The rider said. The rider was riding astride the saddle, at odds with the feminine voice which had spoken. The voice was calm however and betrayed no sign of nervousness. Her companion was also looking through the darkness.

"Aye miss." The voice was gruff, that of an older gentleman. "Down the road, a little farther on I reckon."

"Load your pistol Mr. Bonden." She withdrew her arms into her cloak and Mr. Bonden knew that she was loading her pistol under her oilskin cloak. Once she completed her task, which took no more than a few seconds, she turned her horse towards the gunshots and kicked into a gallop, Mr. Bonden behind her. The horse galloped with such speed that the hood of her cloak was whipped back to reveal a length of burnished gold curls.

They soon came up on their quarry, a carriage surrounded by riders. One of the riders had dismounted and was approaching the paneled door to the carriage. He paused, as the sounds of the horses approached.

Then several things happened at once. The highwayman reaching for the carriage door was thrown back by the sudden opening of the door and the explosive report of a pistol. The woman, seeing that her target had been taken care of aimed her pistol at the highwayman that had been covering the coachman with a blunderbuss and fired. The blunderbuss clattered to the ground and the highwayman was left to clutch his injured hand. Her companion approached, his own pistol pointed at a rider who had begun to reach into his pocket.

"I wouldn't if I was you." He growled. "Off with you now." He shouted. The robbers turned their horses, leaving their wounded and riding off into the night. The young woman lowered her pistol and grinned. Her companion approached her.

"You must be freezing sir." She said. "Pray you get into your coach and we will escort you to your home."

"And you Miss Charlotte, pull up your hood, ye'll catch yer death o' cold." Miss Charlotte glanced at him and then at an older woman that had peeked her head out of the carriage.

"Yes, pray do. You must come in to the park and have a cup of tea." Charlotte frowned but the woman, assuming that her orders would be obeyed, pulled the gentleman into the carriage and the equipage set out.

Not very many minutes later they came upon the entrance to a large park, down a driveway, and up to a large rambling house. There was a covered driveway at the end of the long drive, where the carriage eventually pulled up. The occupants of the carriage ducked out of the carriage and the woman they'd seen earlier approached them.

"Our saviors!" she said, sounding delighted. "Come inside and warm yourselves." Charlotte looked unsure and glanced at her companion.

"I've no wish to impose on you, madam," Charlotte said, shifting in her saddle. "We must be on our way to London." An older gentleman approached the woman and glanced up at Charlotte sharply.

"Don't be foolish." He said. "You'd never make London tonight." His voice had been as sharp as his glance and Charlotte blushed.

"We have a change of horses waiting, sir, and planned to ride through the night." She waved a hand towards her companion. "We should arrive early tomorrow." The woman looked horrified.

"Never say you'll do that. It sounds most uncomfortable. If you insist on continuing tonight, at least come in and have tea. Your horses will have a rest and we can properly thank you for saving us. Do come." The woman's voice was soothing but firm. She would not take no for an answer and anything other than instant capitulation would be construed as an insult. Charlotte fought with herself. She found herself not wanting to offend this classy lady, wanting to stay in her good opinion. She could not fathom why it mattered to her to be in anyone's good graces, but, after a moment, Charlotte dismounted.

"You are too kind madam." She said finally. The woman smiled and slid an arm about Charlotte's waist and brought her into the house.

"Nonsense!" she said, handing her elegant cloak to a lackey. "I want to know exactly what happened." Charlotte glanced behind at her companion. "Dominic will see to it that your servant is well taken care of. Now," she sighed happily. "Your coat, my dear." Charlotte turned to see that another lackey had been standing behind her, waiting expectantly for her coat.

"Oh! I beg pardon!" she divested herself of her light oilskin cloak and the heavy greatcoat she wore underneath. "Thank you." She smiled at the lackey as she was born away to a drawing room. She was in no condition to be presented to anyone, not that she was conscious of it. Her heavy greatcoat revealed a serviceable blue gown, very simply made with a square neckline and white ribbon at the high waist. Charlotte had a trim figure, if taller and broader than most women. My lady surveyed her new guest as she opened the drawing room door. The girl was pretty; she had handsome features in a well-bred face. If her face was a little tan, and it was, and she had a small scar underneath one pretty blue eye, it gave her countenance. Her hair hung in loose bronze ringlets about her face. With an expert eye my lady took in her admirable figure. Her skin was smooth into the low neckline and the girl's ample bosom would excite envy in any polite drawing room. She wore no jewelry and carried herself with no airs. Mary noticed that the gown seemed to be crossed over the front and assumed that it hid blue trousers, which had allowed the girl to ride astride her horse.

"What is your name dear?" she asked kindly, ushering her into the drawing room. The girl walked in and glanced around at the occupants of the elegant apartment. She had not been wasting her time either. She had noticed the exquisite embellishment of my lady's gown, the beautiful jewels about her neck, on her fingers, and in her hair. The woman could not be more than fifty years old but carried her years well and with a grace that was very becoming. Her brown hair was beginning to gray but she gave the impression of kindness and luxury. Charlotte felt she must curtsey and did.

"Charlotte Aubrey, milady." She said. She became suddenly aware of three pairs of eyes surveying her. The woman smiled.

"Charlotte, it's a pleasure. My name is Mary Alistair, you met my husband Dominic in the hallway, and these are our children: Hugh, Justin and Phoebe." She drew Charlotte close to the fire and begged her to make herself comfortable. Charlotte had surveyed the other occupants of the room. The girl, staring at her with nerve-wracking curiosity, and who's name must be Phoebe, was devastatingly beautiful. She had delicate features set in a pale face and with dark brows over her violet eyes. Her hair was light, almost red and had been styled about her face in a youthful style. She wore a delicate muslin gown of the palest green and a simple string of pearls adorned her neck. She was standing next to a young gentleman, Justin surely, who was dressed in the style of the dandy. The days of elegance and simplicity of dress had ended for those calling themselves dandies, and the name ceased to mean a simple mode of dress. It instead directed men to the extremes of fashion that would have appalled Beau Brummell had he seen them. This gentleman wore palest primrose pantaloons, a shocking blue waistcoat and his neck cloth amazingly tied in the complex Oriental style. He was much of the same height of his sister, perhaps half a head taller. He was darker than his sister, almost swarthy with grey eyes set under a handsome brow. He had made her a magnificent leg upon her entrance, and was now surveying her through a quizzing glass.

The eldest of the siblings had been standing next to the fire, and was now the one standing closest to her. He was taller than Charlotte by half a head, with curiously light eyes set in his handsome swarthy face. His glance, of all of them, put Charlotte to the blush. He had surveyed her for a long moment, his light eyes travelling from the wet curls that fell about her shoulder, following their lines to the neckline of her gown, over her breasts with satisfaction, then down her simple gown to her ankles. He wore none of the extremes of his junior, only tan breeches over brown polished Wellington boots, a brown coat over white smallclothes and a simply tied neck cloth. The clothes suited him and Charlotte, hating to be put to the blush, surveyed his figure much the way he had hers. He was built powerfully, with strong arms, broad shoulders and powerful thighs. She approved of what she saw, if not of the gentleman himself. Hugh Alistair met her eyes for a moment and his lips curled into a cold smile and then glanced at his mother.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Aubrey," Justin was saying, holding out his hand. Charlotte shook it, smiling.

"The pleasure is mine sir." She said. She forced herself to swallow her annoyance. What did she care for that man's good opinion? My lady's opinion certain did matter for some reason, but Charlotte could not like this gentleman and his curiously light eyes. The girl approached her shyly. Charlotte smiled at her. "Your name is Phoebe, correct?" she held out her hand. "Charlotte." Phoebe took her hand, her smile broadening.

"It's so nice to meet you." The girl said. She could scarce be seventeen or eighteen. "My brother says that you're a monstrously good shot." She said confidingly. Charlotte, who's never met such a girl, or many girls, found herself warming to the child.

"By Jove, yes!" Justin interrupted moving to stand near the fire. "That was a demmed lucky shot m'dear." He nodded sagely.

"You may call it luck." Hugh said. He sounded bored and his voice was a drawl. Phoebe looked at him, and then at her father, who had entered the room.

"It was a child's trick, nothing more." Charlotte assured them. My lord looked doubtful but held his hand out to Charlotte.

"Perhaps, but it was fine shooting. You have my compliments." He was smiling at her as she shook his hand. "Are you, perchance, related to Fanny Aubrey?" Charlotte looked surprised but nodded as his Grace took a pinch of snuff.

"I am. In point of fact, she is my sister, sir." Once again the eyes turned to her. "Are you acquainted with her?" My lady stepped forward.

"We are! The dear creature. I cannot believe that you are related! There is no resemblance. You must be the Absent Twin Sister!" she said, pulling Charlotte, who was chuckling, to the sofa.

"I suppose I am. Is my sister very different from me?" she asked. "I've never seen her before." Charlotte felt Phoebe perch on the arm of the sofa behind her.

"Oh, yes, quite different. The very picture of your mother." My lady thought for a moment. "Her hair is black, you know. And she's much-" she paused, trying to find a phrase that wouldn't insult her guest.

"Smaller?" Charlotte suggested. "My father told me that my mother is a slip of a thing. And, well…" Charlotte blushed and shrugged. "I am not."

"I would never have said so, but, she is much shorter than you certainly." My lady seemed to fumble for words. Her husband stepped in for her.

"Don't dither Mary, it's not as though Ms. Aubrey is a fright. She's well-formed for her height, well formed indeed." He snapped. "My wife is trying to tell you that Fanny Aubrey is a tiny, slender, little chit of a girl." He said. Charlotte laughed.

"And she has black hair? No, I can see that we look nothing alike." She said and patted my lady's hand kindly. "Don't look so distressed madam. I have no disillusions about my figure."

"It's a damn fine figure." His Grace interjected. Charlotte's eyes crinkled with laughter and soon my lady smiled. Hugh looked sardonically at his father.

"Are you travelling to London to see your sister, then?" Fanny asked. Charlotte turned to her.

"Yes, I'll be glad to see Fanny and mama, but I'm here at my father's request." She said. Avon was smiling again.

"Never tell me that your papa sent you here to inspect James!" he said. Charlotte glanced at him but nodded.

"Are you acquainted with Mr. Comyn?" she asked.

"Lord yes!" Justin said. "He's a cousin of ours. Damn fine fellow." He paused to take a pinch of snuff.

"My father asked me to meet him, and if I approve, I have his permission to consent to the marriage." She said frankly. She received an astonished look from my Lady. "After father, I am the head of the family." She added, as though this explained the extraordinary circumstance. There was silence for a moment as a servant brought a tea tray in. A clock chimed in the hall and Charlotte jumped. "Goodness gracious. Mr. Bonden and I had best get back on the road." She rose and curtsied to her hostess, who had also risen. "Thank you so-"

"You can't leave now my dear." My lady said, holding out her hand. "It's far too late, and what if those highwaymen return?" she demanded. Charlotte bit back a smile.

"Ma'am, there is not the least cause for alarm; I assure you that no highwayman could pose a threat to Mr. Bonden or myself. You've seen for yourself that we are well capable of defending ourselves." She spoke lightheartedly but my Lord could see the grim set to her jaw as she spoke.

"You travel armed?" he asked.

"I carry four pistols on my person, as well as a Navy cutlass." Charlotte said. "And I am more than skilled with all of them. There is really not the least fear for us. Mr. Bonden is as sharp a fighter as I've ever seen, and an excellent shot with his own guns."

"My God," Hugh said, "A walking armory." Charlotte glanced at him, her eyebrows raised.

"How else should a defenseless girl travel?" she asked innocently. "You yourself have seen my accuracy, and we must admit I am of more than enough size to defend myself." My lady was not pleased but she sent a servant to fetch Mr. Bonden, who would bring the horses round.

"You'll send us word when you arrive?" she asked, her hand on Charlotte's arm as they walked toward the door.

"If you wish, my lady. I can send a stable boy easily enough." Charlotte was being helped into her greatcoat by a footman and my lady was drawn back into the drawing room. My lord offered Charlotte an elegant calling card.

"We will be travelling to London within the week child." He told her. "Will you be staying with your mama?" Charlotte took the card, which had "Dominic Alistair, his Grace the Duke of Avon, etc." and his direction in London etched into the heavy stock.

"Yes my lord." She looked curiously at the card and then up at his face.

"That card will see that you're served at any posting house you come across, especially in this county." He told her, draping her heavy oilskin cloak over her shoulders and tying the thick laces about her throat.

"But-" she started to protest, "This is too much kindness! My lord, you scarcely know me!"

"You're a good lass, and you did us a good turn. It's only proper that we return the gesture." Avon smiled at her. "Be safe, and send a message as soon as you arrive in London." He dropped a kiss on her hair and escorted her to her horse.

"You are too kind. Thank you. And I will. Give my love to Phoebe." She said and mounted. A moment later the two riders galloped off into the night.


End file.
